After the Auction
by genghizcohen
Summary: Cecil comes home to Carlos after The Auction, and discovers more about Lot 37. And the horrifying consequences of hair-pulling. Welcome to Night Vale.


On the kitchen sideboard was a box. It was sleek and elegant, and shaped rather like a coffin, if a coffin was ever made for a person less than two feet tall, with exceedingly slender shoulders. It even had the little silver handles. There was an auction ticket attached to one of them with a grubby piece of string.

"What is it?"

"Well, apparently, it's Cecil Gershwin Palmer."

Cecil stared at Carlos, almost-but not quite-uncomprehending. You could see him making the connections, one by one, until his face split into his biggest, brightest, just-for-Carlos smile.

"You bought me?"

"Well,no." Carlos smiled. "I presumed that you were going to do that yourself. But I did see who the other bidder was, and I persuaded them to switch paddles with me before the time came to collect."

"And they just let me go?" Cecil seemed a little put out by the idea that he was a prize that would be so easily let go."

"Well, when I say persuaded… you saw how violent that hall was already, I figured, what's a little more?"

And with that, the smile was back. "Carlos. You are… the most considerate boyfriend EVER! Seriously, you're just the best!"

"Well, I try." Cecil's hyperactive joy was infectious. Carlos loved that, the way Cecil's emotions overflowed into those around him. Right now there was a wonderful warmth pooling between them, and it was impossible not to smile back. Cecil was still curious, though.

"Who was it?"

"You know, I don't think I should tell you that, Cecil."

"Why not?"

"Because you have a tendency to take overzealous revenge for small sleights. Remember what you

did to Telly? And that time you got Steve arrested?"

"Steve Carlsberg deserves everything he gets, Carlos. He's a feckless troublemaker."

"Besides… there was some hair-pulling."

Cecil gasped, reeling back as though he had been physically pushed.

"Did they… if… is it hurt?"

Carlos laughed again, almost as though he didn't understand the seriousness of what he had just revealed.

"Honestly, Cecil, sometimes I think you care more about my hair than you care about me."

"No!" Cecil propelled himself across the room until he was a little too close for comfort. He smelled pretty good today, though. "I lo- I care about you at least forty percent more than I care about your stupid perfect hair."

"That much, huh?"

Cecil's arms snaked their way up Carlos's spine. "I did the math."

"I bet."

Carlos dipped his head into the inevitable kiss, and all further conversation was temporarily suspended. At least until Cecil pushed his fingers deep into Carlos' perfect, perfect hair and Carlos screwed up his face in pain.

"Ah!"

Cecil sprang back as though he had been burned. Carlos massaged his scalp briefly, then smiled sheepishly at his boyfriend, who looked far too terrified for his liking. He made an effort to brush it off.

"Sorry, Cecil. I'm afraid hair-ruffling privileges are temporarily suspended."

"Oh."

"So shall we… uh, should…"

Carlos had never known someone as stormy-natured as Cecil. When he got worked up about something, you could almost see the thunderclouds rolling across his face. Right now there were tiny sparks crackling at one corner of his left eye, although that could just be due to the higher than usual static charge in this area of Night Vale lately. A whole table in the lab was dedicated to mapping it- he should probably check up on that soon. Right now, though, more pressing matters were at hand.

"Cecil-"

"_Who did this to you?_"

"Cecil, seriously, it's okay."

"_I need to speak with them."_

"Cecil, remember what I said about disproportionate revenge?"

"_Trespassers. I will pour forth upon them the fires of Hell itself."_

"See, this is exac- Cecil, your eyes have gone a funny colour."

"_They will know such agony as only Community Radio can-"_

"Cecil, they're glowing. Your eyes are glowing." Carlos began to back away from Cecil, as the radio presenter moved towards him in slow, measured steps, the glow from his eyes now spreading into the very air around him."

"_Their souls will cry out for release."_

"Cecil, please!"

"_And it will not be forthcoming."_

Carlos' back struck against the sideboard. Nowhere left to retreat, he began to edge up it, fingers flying to and fro behind his back in search of something suitably defensive yet non-life threatening.

Cecil was not even bothering to move his feet now. In fact, his feet had begun to slowly rise from the floor, immaculate heels first. The light concealed his face, now, and was filled with a soft, persistent buzzing that seemed to ask, over and over:

"_who?who?who?who?who?who?"_

There were other words underneath those ones, but Carlos didn't want to hear them. They made his brain want to run away and weep.

In desperation, Carlos grasped the long wooden box he had bought at the auction and raised it above his head. For the sake of one last appeal to sanity, he opened his mouth, and a voice, similar to his own yet subtly different in almost every single way, came out of it.

"Cecil Gershwin Palmer, you stop that right this minute!"

The effect was instantaneous. The light withdrew, almost as though it had literally retracted back inside Cecil's head. Cecil's heels returned to earth with a soft click, and he stood still for a moment, eyes no longer glowing, but slightly glazed. He tilted his head to one side and spoke, seeming suddenly uncertain even of his own voice:

"Carlos?"

Then he collapsed.

Carlos was off the counter in a heartbeat.

"Cecil? Cecil, are you alright?"

The radio-host had simply crumpled where he stood. He lay in an untidy heap on Carlos' floor, looking disconcertingly like a discarded puppet. Carlos slid one hand under Cecil's cheek and raised his head until he could be sure the airway was clear. He kept his hand there, though it probably wasn't strictly necessary any more. Cecil's cheek was surprisingly soft. But then, he had always had startlingly clear skin. And Carlos had never known him to shave.

"Cecil? Can you hear me? It's Carlos."

At that, Cecil stirred briefly, and let out a little sigh. He was breathing regularly, at least. Carlos wasn't sure if he ought to call someone. Before moving here, he would have called an ambulance just to be safe, but for all he knew this sort of thing was nothing to worry about in Night Vale. Besides, he didn't much feel like explaining what had just happened to the Sheriff's Secret Police. He'd been in their "Interview Rooms" twice this month already.

Fortunately, Cecil seemed to be reviving somewhat. The blood was slowly returning to his lips, and his eyelids flickered. He twitched fitfully and whimpered like a child in the middle of a bad dream.

"It's okay, Cecil. I'm here. You can wake up now."

"Mm… C'rlos?" Cecil wriggled closer in to the scientist's body. Instinctively, Carlos curled his free arm around Cecil and drew him still nearer.

"Yes Cecil. I'm here."

For a few breaths Cecil was still. Calm. Then his eyes fluttered open and he frowned.

"Why am I lying down?"

"Um, you… fainted? I think? Something like that."

Cecil groaned theatrically.

"Oh man! I thought I was done with that junk."

He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand, and as the questioning silence stretched out added; "I haven't had an episode in years."

"An episode of what, Cecil?"

Now Cecil just looked embarrassed. A pink flush blossomed along the curve of his cheekbones, and he ducked his head, trying to appear as casual as it was possible to be while still draped across your boyfriend's arms like fresh spaghetti.

"Sometimes I black out. And sometimes it takes a chunk of my memory with it. But that's okay. My friend was always there to explain what went wrong."

"Your friend?"

"Yes, I-" Cecil paused. His brow furrowed again, and he sat up, pushing Carlos' arms away. He looked… not angry, exactly. Irritated, perhaps. No, it was more like a small part of his brain had gone off-piste, and he was arguing with it.

"I… don't remember. I know I had a friend. A good friend. He explained things to me. He made them so clear."

"What sort of things?"

"Well, like-" Cecil broke off again. Now he was beginning to look genuinely distressed. "I don't know. Why don't I know? It was all so clear. I remember the feeling. Like the veils were drawn away and you looked out into the void and in the face of nothingness you found truth. But I don't know what it was. I can't-" He winced, and shrank in on himself, hands reaching for his temples. "My head hurts, Carlos."

"It's alright, Cecil." Carlos gently laid his arm across Cecil's shoulder. "You've just had a bad experience. You don't have to remember everything right now. That can come later, when you're feeling better."

"Yes. Yes, you're right, Carlos. You're good at being right." Something about the way Cecil's voice was beginning to warp made Carlos pull closer and, before he really knew what was happening, his arms were full of Cecil again, and his boyfriend was sobbing into his shoulder like a child.

"Cecil? Why are you crying?"

Cecil just shook his head. "I don't know that either."

"Alright. Alright."

Carlos held Cecil close until the worst of the tears had stopped, then relaxed his grip and murmured;

"I think it might be best if you got some rest now, Cecil. You can stay here tonight, okay?"

"mmkay."

It took a few false starts, but eventually they got into a standing position, Carlos' hands carefully positioned to support Cecil if he had to. Cecil seemed to be coping, though. The only real indication of his… episode… was the persistent tremor running through his limbs. Still, Carlos decided he would feel much better once Cecil was safely put to bed.

Cecil seemed to have other ideas.

"Carlos?"

"Yes Cecil?"

"Before we go upstairs… could we take a look?"

"A look? Oh, the box. I guess so. Are you sure it's a good idea? You're still a little…"

"Please?" Cecil nuzzled his face against Carlos' neck until the scientist giggled.

"Okay, okay. But anything that happens is your fault, alright?"

"Sounds good."

Cecil insisted on undoing the catches himself, "just in case". Both men involuntarily flinched back as he slowly raised the lid, but nothing happened. There wasn't even an ominous creak, to Cecil's evident disappointment. The lid opened in eerie silence, and they leaned forwards to see what all the fuss had been about.

"But-" Carlos didn't understand. Cecil said nothing, but his grip on Carlos' waist tightened like a vice.

There, nestled in a dark bed of ruffled velvet, was a mirror.


End file.
